


he has eyes and yet he does not see

by Blownwish



Series: please please please let me get what I want this time [12]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Long Distance Sex, M/M, Pliroy, blindfold, concealed identity sex, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Yuri pretends not to know who is fucking him.





	he has eyes and yet he does not see

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [he has eyes and yet he doesn't see](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145732) by [Icicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icicle/pseuds/Icicle)



Yuri was naked, blindfolded, tied to a chair and ready. Someone was walking around him, touching his shoulders, his face, he opened his mouth when they reached his lips so he could taste his fingers, then they stopped in front of him. He could hear the nylon _swish_ just before this person pushed his legs further apart and their mouth - their mouth - Oh, god! The way he sucked Yuri, so hard! The way he tugged at his nuts! The way he touched his thigh, tracing little lines up and down, lightly, lightly… The way he touched his face when he started to moan... And then he -

Oh, fuck! Yuri couldn't move, couldn't see, didn't know who, why. All he could do was whine and come and come and come as this person swallowed every drop.

He stood up when it was over. Touched Yuri's face and lingered on his lips so he could taste his finger one more time. It was as close as they ever came to kissing. He patted Yuri's cheek, then cut the rope. Yuri knew the rules. He never asked who he was, and waited until he was gone to take off the blindfold.

There was a message taped to the hotel door, written in English: s _ee you next time_.

++

He was jerking off in the toilet stall. It was stupid and it was risky but he had no choice because fifteen snuck up on him like a bitch in the locker room. Again. He couldn't put his dance belt on when he was hard, and he definitely wasn't going to give the others the satisfaction of seeing him like this - especially that asshole, JJ. It was his fault Yuri was in this state. His fault for bending over in those stupid bright red briefs. With that tight ass Yuri wanted to take a _bite out of_. And that tramp stamp that looked like a target. Fuck! He would come all over that fucking stupid JJ logo and smear his jizz all over it. And then he'd take a great, big, satisfying bite on his right ass cheek and sink his teeth right in. Oh, man! And what if he -

Someone slipped a note under the stall door. Yuri immediately stopped. What the fuck was this?

_i can help you with that_

His face felt like it was on fire. Someone knew - how? - and someone was crossing the motherfucking line. He balled it up and tossed that shit in the toilet. Well, fuck them. Yuri wasn't about to get into something with any of those losers. He was in this rink to practice. He was in Montreal to win. Not fuck around and games like Viktor and his Katsudon. Skate Canada was as good as his, and this asshole with his note could go eat some other dick.

There was a knock.

“Get lost.”

Practice was fucked because he was half hard, wondering who the hell was fucking with his head.

++

Yuri knows who he is, but he refuses to acknowledge this. He doesn't have a name when he's messaging him on this Mr Anonymous sock account. He's oractifally this figment of his imagination who makes videos of himself jerking off and demands Yuri reciprocate in realtime as he watches. Which he does.

He doesn't have a name when he slips a note under his hotel room door, with a blindfold, telling him to be ready in ten minutes, naked, with his back turned and the door unlocked.

He never speaks. He never leaves clues. He never indicates who he is when Yuri is practicing on the rink before competition, during competition, or standing at the podium. It's like this guy doesn't exist outside Yuri's imagination.

Yuri is on his laptop, watching the video as he films his reaction. He doesn't even try to control the faces he must be making, even though he's probably gasping like a little girl over this huge, uncut dick being pumped for him. Mr Anonymous never brings that stuff up. He only gives orders: _open the file// do what i do_. And he does, he is, he's jerking himself off, beat per beat, and he's remembering the time that huge thing was pressed against his lips, back in Barcelona. And how hot it felt, and how those hands grabbed the back of his head and gagged him on it, and how he smeared the come across Yuri’s lips, like gloss.

Yuri comes all over himself when the man shoots his load, and licks his own come off his hand, remembering what Mr Anonymous’ tastes like, before he hits send. In a few minutes he sees one message from the sock: _see you next time_

Yuri leans over to grab some Kleenex for whatever he doesn't lick off. “Yeah, whatever.” Mr Anonymous is not exactly the postcoital type.

++

Otabek had a trick; he could literally sip the breath out of Yuri when they kissed. Yuri didn't realize what he was doing at first; all he knew was he got real light headed after a few minutes with him on the couch. Then it went away as soon as Otabek let up and smiled. Yuri gasped for air.

“Are you a virgin?” His finger traced Yuri's lips. Would he stop if Yuri said no? Otabek tilted his head and watched Yuri's mouth as it trembled. “You act like a virgin.”

What would he say if he knew Yuri was on his hands and knees last week at the Helsinki competition, with a vibrating bullet up his ass and on high, and mouth crammed full of dick? What if he knew the bullet came the day before, with instructions to put it in and walk around with it all day, so Mr Anonymous could turn it on at any given time? At one point, while Yuri was sitting on his practice bench after his short program practice, scrolling through his Snapchat, when it went off, full blast. He clutched his phone, sucked in his breath, and pulled his hoodie over his face as his dick throbbed and his balls got so heavy he thought his voice was going to drop two octaves. What would he say if he knew Yuri was instructed to wait in a dark, cramped closet at the Helsinki banquet until this faceless guy showed up, pulled the bullet out, bent him over a box, yanked pants around his ankles, and fuck him up the ass while the other skaters were just a few meters away, laughing over champagne?

What would he say if he knew Yuri was being fucked for more than a year by someone he couldn't name?

“Straddle my lap.” Yuri did. “Take your shirt off.” Otabek did, too. His skin was smooth, his body was firm, just like Mr Anonymous. Yuri moaned and he closed his eyes when Otabek touched his chest. His hands were warm and he kept moving them all over his pecs, his belly, his nipples. “Look at me?” He couldn't. He was used to being blindfolded. “Please?” He shook his head. It was impossible.

++

The world decided Yuri and Otabek were boyfriends and Otabek decided it was a good idea. He always called him after Yuri's practice. Never spent more than an hour on the phone, and managed to say he loved him at least one time, every time. It should've felt good.

Sometimes he told himself Otabek was Mr Anonymous. He knew it wasn't possible. Otabek was thousands of kilometers away when some of those encounters took place. And his body was only similar, not a match. But he still tried to tell himself he believed it when he was getting messages from Mr Anonymous.

_pics fingering yourself_

_vid jerking yourself off_

_do it again// make more noise bc i want to hear you_

He could tell himself that during the between times in the shower, laying on his mattress, in the early morning rhythm of his morning jogs. But there was no room to lie when he was in those moments with Mr Anonymous. He crowded Yuri with his presence, whether it was on a screen or in person, until Yuri didn't even have room for himself. All he could think about was _him_. And then he would leave.

Yuri wanted to believe. He needed to believe, so he wouldn't trip over his skates every time he went out in the ice, imagining the look on Otabek's face if he wasn't - no, he _had to be_.

Yuri checked his phone. There were two messages. The first was Otabek. He closed his eyes, then pulled down his pants. He was responding to the second one, first.

++

He lost two points over rotating his quad Salchow during his short program and he was competing against Leroy at Skate America. He couldn't afford to be distracted, especially when the bastard was practically flying over the ice during practice.

Yakov bitched and Yuri had no idea what he was even saying. All he could think about in the kiss and cry was the message he just got on his phone.

_room 443 8pm be naked_

JJ dominated the short program and Mr Anonymous dominated Yuri. He pushed him into the mattress, blindfolded face down, touching every part of him, shoving his fingers deep inside of Yuri until he sobbed and begged him for relief.

“Make it stop! Please just make it stop!” He was so good at pushing all the lies and failures away. So good, like a drug.

This time, he felt that hand tremble. He heard that breath hitch. Suddenly Yuri was left with nothing but the cold air on his back. Clothes rustled and Yuri knew he messed up, because Mr Anonymous was leaving.

No - please _no_. This was the only good thing that was going to happen to him today. The only place and time where he couldn't lie.

Yuri sat up and did something he shouldn't have done. He turned around, took off his blindfold and he saw a red track suit and an undercut. Then the door closed. He was gone.

He knew it. He fucking knew it. Yuri fell back into the mattress and screamed into the pillow. It was over.

++

He tells Otabek he loves him, every day. Not just with words but with little things; he links him articles about Depeche Mode, New Order and motorcycles. When they're in the same city Yuri spends as much time as he can with him, riding around on rented bikes, taking coffees and teas and talking about nothing and everything until they rush back to one of their rooms so Otabek can kiss him breathless until he's naked and spread out for him like a banquet.

And when he's underneath Otabek? When he's coming and wailing and grasping for skin or sheets or anything in reach? His eyes are closed. He can't see Otabek's face, and Yuri is lying to himself. He never stopped.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] he has eyes and yet he doesn't see](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14148195) by [AshiiPods (ashiiblack)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashiiblack/pseuds/AshiiPods)




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